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The Little Cross That Found Us

A Tangible Reminder of God’s Love

Remember the Tiny Jesus we were giving away? Here is Tiny Jesus with the Found Cross.

You know those moments when God just shows up? Not in a flashy, part-the-seas kind of way, but in the quiet, unexpected, deeply personal ways that remind you He’s got you?

We had one of those moments recently when my husband was in the emergency room. (He’s fine now, thank God—but that’s a story for another day.) While we were in the hospital, a kind nurse came in to check on us, and I happened to notice she was wearing a Tau cross. Now, if you know, you know.

“Hey,” I said, pointing at the little wooden cross, “are you a Franciscan?”

Her face lit up. “You know what this means?”

A Simple Question, A Big Connection

And just like that, a little spark of faith turned into something much bigger. She immediately went off to find the hospital chaplain so my husband could receive Holy Communion. Enter Fr. Jim—equal parts pastoral and hilarious. He came in, joked with us, prayed with us, and then handed my husband something truly special: a hand-carved wooden cross.

It turns out, a veteran makes these crosses from “found” wood—because, as the Vet explains, we all need to be found. Each cross has a tiny red dot on it, a reminder of the blood Christ shed for us. Simple. Beautiful. Powerful.

A Gift that Keeps Giving

I thought that was the end of it—just a sweet, grace-filled moment. But since that hospital stay, every follow-up appointment in the VA system has revealed something remarkable. Again and again, we’ve encountered that little cross. Nurses have them. Techs have them. And every time we see one, it’s like a joyful little nudge from God saying, I’m still here. I’ve got you.

Isn’t that just like Him? Showing up in the small, ordinary, and completely unexpected ways to remind us we are never alone?

God is good. And sometimes, He leaves little reminders in our path—just when we need them most.

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St. Kunegunde of Luxembourg: A Holy Empress

When we think of medieval queens and empresses, images of power, intrigue, and wealth often come to mind. But Saint Kunegunde of Luxembourg, a woman of royal blood and deep faith, offers a different kind of story—one of humility, service, and sanctity.

A Royal Beginning

Kunegunde was born around 980 into the powerful House of Luxembourg. When she was a young woman, she married Henry II, Duke of Bavaria, who would later become the Holy Roman Emperor. Their marriage was not just a political move but a partnership deeply rooted in faith. Together, they worked to strengthen the Church and promote Christian values in the Holy Roman Empire.

A Marriage of Devotion

Legend suggests that Kunegunde and Henry II lived in a chaste marriage, dedicating their lives to God. The historical accuracy around this claim is debated, but the fact they had no children is often used to support this claim. Nevertheless, Kunegunde was a devoted wife and queen. She supported her husband’s efforts in reforming the Church and took an active role in charitable works, helping to establish monasteries and churches throughout the empire.

Trials and Triumphs

Kunegunde’s life was not without trials. She was accused of adultery, which in her position, was tantamount to treason. In a dramatic act of faith, she is said to have walked barefoot across red-hot plowshares as a trial by ordeal—and emerged unscathed, proving her innocence.

I first heard of St. Kunegunde in elementary school, and then as a college student, studied about Bamberg, Germany and the important religious and historical features in the Cathedral. St. Kunegunde came up again, and I had a little moment of recollection, but it was fleeting. Year’s later, when my husband was stationed in Bamberg, I accompanied him and rediscovered St. Kunegunde. She is buried in the Cathedral of Bamberg alongside her husband, St. Heinrich II.

A Life of Holiness

After Heinrich’s death, Kunegunde renounced her royal privileges and became a Benedictine nun. She lived out her remaining years in prayer, humility, and service, finding her true calling in a life devoted to Christ. She passed away in 1033 and was canonized in 1200 by Pope Innocent III.

Her Legacy Today

Saint Kunegunde is a model of faithfulness, humility, and service. Her story reminds us that power and holiness are not mutually exclusive—that one can be both a leader and a servant of God. She is the patroness of Luxembourg and Lithuania, and her feast day is celebrated on March 3.

As we reflect on her life, may we be inspired to seek holiness in our own vocations, trusting that God’s grace is sufficient for every challenge we face.

Do you have a favorite saint that models holiness for you?

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Frome Selfie to a Prayer

Recalling a Special Moment with Pope Francis

Some years ago, in fact, it was the fall of 2015, I found myself scrambling to get a religious visa in order to travel to Cuba. It was an extraordinary intersection of a number of meaningful moments in my life. First, it marked my return to the country of my birth, almost a week to the day, 50 years prior, that I left Cuba with my mother. I was preparing for the launch of my first book, and my uncle, who is a bishop in Cuba, invited the family to join him as he received Pope Francis on his apostolic visit to the island. The Pope was on his way to the World Meeting of Families in the U.S., which I was planning to attend, but I changed my plans to jump on this opportunity for what turned out to be a transformative pilgrimage and reconnection to my family still in Cuba.

I’ve written about the experience in several places, but I want to share with you something I rarely talk about: gazing into Pope Francis’ eyes.

Pope Francis landed in Havana and made his way across the country to the diocese of Holguin, where the devotion to Our Lady of Charity started with the discovery of a miraculous statue of the Blessed Mother, and then was ending his trip in Santiago de Cuba, at the National Basilica of Our Lady of Charity of El Cobre for a Mass and his departure for the United States.

In Holguin, he celebrated a huge public Massm and then met with my uncle, the Bishop, and other priests for lunch and rest before the next leg of his journey. I joined my aunts, uncles, and my mother in the sitting room off the chancery dining room for an opportunity to have an private meeting with Pope Francis. It was a beautiful moment for my uncle, who served with the Pope on regional committees when he was Archbishop. It was a moment of intimate sharing between friends, shepherds and flock, and of course, Pope and Bishop.

It was both formal, with many introductions and protocol, and intimate and familial. At one point, at the urging of my children, I was emboldened to ask Pope Francis if he would allow me to take a selfie. That is perhaps one of the most transformative moments in my life as a Catholic. I had intended to kiss his ring, in awe of the Apostolic Succession and the rich symbolism of the Fisherman’s Ring. Instead, I boldly asked for a picture. He was holding my hand warmly in both of his as we spoke about my husband and children, and my career as teacher and newly minted author.

The tenderness with which he held my gaze was supernatural. I knew he was the Pope, but in that moment, as I asked for the selfie, it was as if I was looking into the eyes of my heavenly Father, lovingly indulging a silly request. It passed quickly. He said yes. I snapped not one, but two because the flash blinded us, and suddenly the press corps descended into the room when they heard the head of protocol call out “No selfies!”

Too late! I got the picture. His body guard took my phone from me and I was sure it was confiscated to delete the photo, but instead, he took pictures of our meeting for me. And I made the L’Osservatore Romano! My mom has the picture they snapped of our selfie!

So now, as we pray for Pope Francis, I don’t want to eulogize him in anticipation of what will be some day, but rather, share a lovely memory of his kindness and gentleness. May the Divine Physician grant him strength and healing, and may the Blessed Mother ease his discomfort, wrapping him in her tender care.

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